


A Ghost of a Chance

by VivArney



Category: The Tomorrow People (1973)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:24:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5622037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney





	A Ghost of a Chance

John looked up as Mike stepped down from the Jaunting pad. "Oh, hello, Mike. How did your practice go?" he asked, then turned back to the delicate repairs he was making on their bio-tronic computer, TIM.

"Not bad. Are you still working on that thing? I thought you'd be finished by now."

"Slight technical hitch."

"Ah . . . Jenna kidnapped you again, did she?" Mike teased, knowing how the pretty blonde telepath pestered John for working long hours.

John straightened, his muscles complaining. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he answered. “She came around lunchtime and caused such  
a disturbance the only thing I could do was go with her.”

Mike laughed quietly. "Where to this time?"

"A Chinese take away in San Francisco. We took Sam to a hearing specialist there."

“Was he any help?”

“Not really, no, he just frightened Sam so badly that she started crying and she fell asleep just after we took her back to my parents’ house.” 

“Wish the doctors at the Galactic Trig could do something.”

“They could, if Sam’s hearing loss was a result of an illness or an injury, but since it’s genetic, they’re not as comfortable trying to correct it.”

“Maybe one day, they’ll find something.”

John nodded. “Yes, Timus was quite taken with her when we took her to the Trig.”

The younger man picked up a screwdriver. "I'll help you for a bit, if you like."

"No thanks, Mike. I'd just finished when you Jaunted in,"

He shrugged. "Okay. Is Sam up yet?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No, still fast asleep, poor thing."

"Hasn't she taken to you yet?"

"No, Mike. She is quite uncomfortable around John." TIM answered. "Almost frightened, though she refuses to explain why."

"Unless she doesn't know how to explain. I mean, she's not fully telepathic yet and she's only just learned basic sign language. Jenna and TIM are still working on the alphabet with her. There's still a lot she doesn't know."

"I know, Mike, and it's frustrating for her that we can't go as fast as she'd like." John agreed. "It's as if Sam has been in the desert for ten years with no water. Well, now she's found it and she's trying desperately to get all she can before the well runs  
dry, not realizing she's going to get sick long before she can possibly learn everything. Now, if we could teach Andrew her enthusiasm . . . "

"Sam's got a lot more to catch up on," a woman's voice interrupted. "Andrew's just got to learn to wear pants. Hiya, Mike."

They turned to see a young woman stride into the room carrying a mug of coffee.

"Hi, Jenna. Is that for me?"

"Soon's you turn purple and grow a horn, kid," she answered. "This is for the Mad Scientist, but I'll get ya some in a minute."

"Jenna, I am perfectly capable of . . . " John started to protest,

"Oh, hush!" she interrupted. "I swear, Mike. This guy's gonna rot himself away the way he spends so much time tinkerin' around with that king-sized vacuum cleaner."

"Really, Jenna!" TIM began, pretending insult. He knew Jenna was teasing him. She had a great deal of respect for the huge biological computer, but felt, as he did, that John spent entirely too much time in his workshop and not enough time in the real world; hence the nickname ‘Mad Scientist.’

John sat finally and took the coffee from the female telepath, who laughed and left the room to get a cupfor Mike.

Jenna had joined the small group of telepaths only six months before. Raised primarily on ranches in West Texas, she had little patience with ‘uppity’ people. She and John had a great deal of trouble early on with John saying she was little more than an ill-mannered tomboy and Jenna telling John he was all brain and no sense. There had been a week of angry looks before they both decided the feud was ridiculous and called a truce. Jenna could get bossy at times she admitted, then announced that John could be quite bossy himself when the mood hit him. They'd accepted each other after that.

When she returned with the coffee, she made a great show of presenting it to Mike, who laughed.

"John, I am picking up a call on the emergency number," TIM announced. "Professor Cawston wishes to speak with you."

John smiled. They hadn't heard from Professor Cawston in quite some time.

There was a soft click as TIM connected the call, then a male voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Hello, Professor. This is John. What can we do for you?"

"John! It's good to hear your voice. I think I've stumbled onto something your lot might be interested in."

"Oh, really. What have you found?"

"I'd like to come and explain in about an hour. I'm waiting for some photographs to develop."

"Certainly, Professor, just call TIM when you’re ready."

"Who's he?" Mike asked as TIM broke the connection.

"He's a parapsychologist," John began. "He found Tyso and also helped us through a rough bit with Jedikiah a few months later."

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember Tyso mentioning him once, awhile back. He didn't say much." Jenna put in.

‘Well, Tyso's got some bad memories from that time," John said. "He and Stephen were nearly killed."

"And if I remember right, you and Liz nearly bought the farm during that Jedikiah business too."

"Very true, Jenna. However, you cannot blame Professor Cawston for incidents over which he had no direct control. Colonel Masters was responsible for the entire unfortunate incident." TIM advised.

"Until Jedikiah killed him." Mike said. "That's the only good thing he ever did."

"All right, Mike. We've been over that too many times."

"Okay, John." Mike gave in. There was no point in rehashing an old argument that had no logical conclusion anyway.

"Jenna, Sam is waiting for you."

"Thanks, TIM. I'll go get her."

As Jenna stepped onto the Jaunting pad, John set his now empty mug aside and returned to TIM. He crouched beside the computer's hard metal casing and opened a compartment, carefully explaining the newly installed component to Mike.

John and Mike worked well together, to a point. Mike's moodiness made it difficult sometimes, but the younger boy's jokes often acted as a buffer that kept John from getting too serious.

As promised, Professor Cawston contacted TIM an hour later and soon arrived on the Jaunting pad via a matter transportation band.

John introduced Jenna and Mike then walked over to where a small girl with a mop of carrot-colored curls had her eyes riveted in a picture book, and put his hand on her shoulder. 

She looked up and he flashed some hand signals. The girl nodded, closed her book, picked up a clipboard and joined the  
others.

Professor Cawston looked confused.

"This is Samantha, Professor. She's only been with us a few weeks. We're having trouble teaching her telepathy. Her hearing is extremely limited and it makes it difficult to communicate."

"She's gradually picking up bits of our telepathy, but she gets it jumbled sometimes," Jenna said

"You realize that even after she's learned telepathy, she'll still have problems."

"Of course. Eventually though, we'll be able to relay what we hear to her." John replied. "Now, what can we do for you?"

"You know I've changed my research from telepathy."

"Yes."

"Well, I've gotten a grant to study hauntings and the like,"

"Ghosts!?" Jenna asked.

"Yes."

"But why waste your time on that?" John asked.

"I can't do any further research into telepathy without the SIS interfering."

"I understand that, but why hauntings? You can't possibly believe in all that mumbo jumbo."

Cawston laughed. "Of course not. With my luck it's probably one of you lot playing tricks."

"Are you investigating one now? A haunted house, I mean," Mike asked.

"Yes. It's an old manor house, or what's left of one, about fifty miles from London. According to the records I've found, a ghost has been haunting Lyons Hall for over four hundred years."

"Sounds like fun!"

"Now, wait just a moment, Jenna," John protested. "Professor, have you been to this manor house?"

He noded. "My assistant and I went there last night and returned rather quickly."

"Why?"

"I've seen this ghost, John. It's real enough. Richard broke his arm trying to follow it,"

"And you want to go back?"

"Yes, and if you'll allow it, I'd like at least two of you to come with me."

"I hate to say this. Professor, but this sounds more like a case of bad nerves to me than a haunting."

"John, you know me better than that." Cawston insisted, standing. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed John a large envelope of photographs. "I thought you'd be hard to convince."

The telepath studied the photos intently, then laid them onto TIM. "TIM, enlarge these please."

The packet vanished, and a moment later, the first photographs appeared on the screen. It was of a spiraling staircase.

At first, there appeared to be nothing else in the photo until Sam moved forward to stare at the image. She made an odd crowing sound and pointed excitedly at a hazy patch on the railing.

“TIM, can you enlarge and enhance that part of the photo?"

There was a colored blur on the screen before the image cleared.

"It looks like a hand to me, John." Jenna said.

"Yes, to me, too," he agreed with a resigned sigh. "Very well, Professor. When would you like us to go have a look at your haunted manor house?"

"Tonight, if you're willing."

“TIM, have you got anything on Lyons Hall?"

"Yes, John. It has a long history. I will summarize. Lyons Hall was built in the early sixteenth century as the home of Lord Jerome Lyons. However, Lord Lyons was killed before it was completed. His wife and children did live in the Hall for a short time, but it was taken from them by King Henry VIII. It has been a home, a priory and a prison. Twenty women and ten men were burned alive in the courtyard as witches. Several young girls were tortured in the cellars. Many died and were buried there."

"In the cellars?"

"Yes, Jenna," the computer replied. "Many European castles and manor houses have rather bloody pasts. There may very well be some sort of life force inhabiting Lyons Hall."

“Hey, we’ve got haunted houses in the States, too, you know!” Jenna said. “Just because they’re not as ancient and musty as y’all’s are, doesn’t mean . . . ”

Cawston smiled at her as John shot her a serious look.

“Gotcha, Boss, eyes front, sit down and shut up,” she said with a grin.

“Well, if we’re going to be hunting for ghosts, we might as well be prepared,” John said as he excused himself and left the room, returning a few moments later, putting several small devices into a backpack. "It's still early enough to take a look around the  
outside before it gets dark," he said, leading them onto the Jaunting pad,

* * * * *

The five of them reappeared outside of a very large stone building.

After a few minutes spent exploring the area surrounding Lyons Hall and finding nothing except tall grass and weeds, Cawston pulled a key from his pocket and opened the heavy wooden door. They filed quietly into a wide unfurnished foyer. 

"That's the staircase from the picture, isn't it?"

"Yes, Jenna," Cawston answered. “It is.”

"Hey, look!" Mike called excitedly, pointing through the inner door at a suit of armor.

"Great! Anybody got a can opener?" Jenna laughed, running her fingers over the rusty metal. "Doesn't look very scary to me." The metal clanged as she tapped a knuckle on the breastplate.

"Perhaps not," Cawston admitted with a laugh.

"It's fantastic!" Mike exclaimed.

"It is a bit cold though." John said, shivering as Cawston closed the door.

"It's these stone walls," Cawston reminded him as he lit a match and led them into a dark room down a corridor. "There are some candles in holders on one of the tables in here," they heard him say as the match went out and threw them into total blackness.

John rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a small torch. "Thought this might come in handy," he said, flicking it on and playing the powerful light over a series of portraits along one wall. "Professor, who are these people? Do you know?"

The room grew brighter as Cawston lit the candles. He walked over to where the young telepaths had gathered around the portraits. "Ah, yes, that's old Jerome Lyons and his wife and children."

"I thought TIM said he never lived here."

"He didn't, Mike. But the wife and children did before they were run off by the King. I assume the portraits were left as some sort of tribute." 

"If one of them is the ghost, I don't fancy meetin' up with it." Mike said shuddering.

"Yeah. Ugly with a capital UG!" Jenna agreed.

"No, they aren't a very friendly looking lot, are they? Doesn't the one on the end look a bit like Mike?"  
John teased.

"Thanks very much. Where's your ghost, Professor?"

"It's not quite dark yet, Mike. We may as well make ourselves comfortable. It's going to be a long night," Cawston said, sitting on a long bench.

"I'd like to explore the rest of the house, if that's all right," John said.

"I'm sorry." Cawston apologized. "After what happened with Richard, I'm a bit nervous."

He stood and led them through the door back into the hall. "It has never been modernized and most of the rooms are empty." Cawston explained. He opened a door into another dark room. "This is the library."

The room was empty. The walls were covered with rows of shelves from floor to ceiling. All empty except for a thick layer of dust.

"There's nothing more depressing than a library without books." Jenna muttered.

"What?" John asked.

"Something my grandad used to say . . . He was right."

Cawston led them into the next room. "They used this room as a chapel for a time even when this was a prison," he said, sweeping the light over rows of hard wooden benches. The next rooms were completely empty. 

"That's odd." John said after they'd been through all the rooms.

"What?"

"Windows, Professor," he said quietly.

"Huh?"

"We've been through the entire ground floor, haven't we?"

Cawston nodded,

"There aren't any windows, but I know I saw at least a couple before we came in."

"Oh. The monks bricked them up but left the glass in place." Cawston explained. "Shall we go upstairs?  
There's only a few rooms with anything more than cobwebs in them, but it may be worth a look."

The young people followed him onto the first floor. The windows here hadn't been bricked up and pale sunlight shone onto the dusty floor.

"It's getting dark a bit early tonight." John said, peering out one of the windows.

Cawston looked over his shoulder. "No, John, it's clouding up. We may be in for a storm."

"Great! Spending a stormy night in a haunted house!" Jenna laughed. "Sounds like something from a B  
movie."

"You don't have to stay, Jenna. You can go back to the Lab."

"No way, John. I ain't gonna miss this. All we need is a howling wolf."

A loud crash from below made everyone, except Sam, jump. A moment later, Mike and John raced down the stairs, searching for the cause of the noise.

Cawston had left the door to the library open and they ran in to see all the shelves lying in a neat series of piles.

"How on Earth did that happen?" John asked, fishing into the backpack for another torch. "Here, I should have given you this earlier," he said with a wry grin. "Call the others down, will you?"

"What's happened?" Cawston asked as he and the women rejoined Mike and John in the library.

"The shelves fell." John explained, waving a small pen-shaped device around the room.

"I should have expected as much. Those shelves have been up there for some time."

"No, look at the stacks, Professor." John advised, crouching. "They're too even, too neat. Somebody laid them there."

"But we're the only people in the house." Cawston protested.

"People?" Jenna asked. "I love your choice of words. What'cha gettin' on that doober you been wavin' around, John?"

"Nothing. No reading at all."

"What is that?"

"It measures different types of energy, Professor." John answered.

"That thing must be screwed up, John," Jenna insisted, "its gotta pick up something."

"It should, but it isn't," he said, "the force needed to throw those shelves down must have been enormous, but it still reads nil energy.”

"Weird." Jenna whispered.

"It must be a powerful ghost." Cawston muttered.

"I don't know what's responsible, Professor, but this wasn't done by a ghost. You mentioned something about cellars?"

"Yes, the entrance is this way," he said and led them to a large iron door. "Mind the steps. They’re slippery."

John felt Sam slide her hand into his. He smiled into the darkness and gave the small hand a reassuring squeeze as the little group carefully made their way down the rough-hewn steps,

The rooms below were damp and cold. They smelled of mold, old sweat and blood. There were, of course, no gruesome reminders of the building's former uses—those had been removed centuries before—but the atmosphere of pain and terror was still strong enough to make the young telepaths uneasy.

"There's death here, John. I can feel it." Jenna whispered.

"TIM did say several girls died down here." John reminded her calmly. He could feel the strange echo in his mind too.

Jenna shivered.

“Are you cold?"

"No . . . No . . . I guess I'm okay, I was thinkin' about what those old timey witch hunters would have thought about us Tomorrow People."

Before John could answer, he felt an insistent tug. "I think Sam wants to go back upstairs."

"She's not the only one. There's something really scary about this place." Mike said, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the damp, smelly cellar.

"You feel it, too?" John asked.

"Yeah. It's like . . . I don't know. Let's go back up."

Jenna was her old self again once they were back up the stairs with the heavy door shut behind them. She sagged against the nearest wall and sighed in relief.

"Are you all right now, Jenna?"

"Yeah, Professor, I'm fine. Somethin' down there just rattled me, that's all."

"What was it?"

Jenna shook her head. "Telepathy—sort of—like somebody was tryin' to talk but they weren't doing it right."

John frowned. "Are you certain, Jenna?"

She glared at him. "Of course I'm "certain,” you thick headed . . . You didn't feel it?"

"No," John answered, glancing over at Mike who shook his head slightly. "I wonder why? Listen, let's go back to the room with the portraits." 

Suddenly, John turned away from them.

"What's the matter?"

"Hush, Mike. I think I heard something."

They listened for a moment.

“I don't hear anything."

"Quiet, Mike." John insisted, just as a clap of thunder boomed through the house making all of them jump.

"It's just the storm." Cawston said quietly. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"'Well, I'm going to find out what made the noise I heard earlier,” John told him.

"I'll go with you."

"No, Mike, you stay with Professor Cawston and the girls. I've got a stun gun."

"A lot of good it'll do against a ghost," Jenna mumbled, as Cawston herded them back into the room.

Cawston, Jenna and Mike heard John walking down the wide corridor outside the room. The light from his torch threw strange shadows through the open door.

 

After several minutes, there was another loud clap of thunder followed by a metallic crash and a muffled cry.

Sam was hauled along as Cawston and the other telepaths bolted into the dark hall shouting John's name.

The small electric torch had gone out and the hallway was pitch black. Mike turned on his torch and they walked carefully toward the spiral staircase, still calling for John.

"Quiet!" Cawston ordered, "I heard something."

//John!// Jenna sent telepathically. //Where are you?//

But there was no answer. Then, suddenly, she knew where he was.

"The armor, Mike, and the tapestry!"

Mike looked to where she was pointing. The huge tapestry had fallen from the wall. He let go of Sam's hand and joined Cawston, trying to pull the soft but heavy decoration away. It was bulky and hard to handle, but together they finally managed to roll it out of the way.

Neither Cawston nor the telepaths saw the strange look on Sam's face as she silently slipped away from the small circle of light.

There was a sneeze and a cough from beneath the overturned suit of armor,

"John! Are you okay?" Jenna asked, as Cawston helped him to his feet and Mike stood the armor against the nearest wall.

John sneezed again, hard, and would have fallen if Mike hadn't grabbed him. "Thanks, Mike."

"Let's get him back into the other room and sit him down." Cawston advised.

Mike picked up the torch and followed as Jenna and Cawston helped their dazed friend into a chair and Cawston took one of the torches from Mike and quickly examined John. He was covered with several centuries of dust, which Jenna was gently trying to brush off, and blood ran down the side of his face from a small cut above his right eye.

"There doesn't appear to be any serious damage." Cawston said. "How do you feel?"

"All right, now," he answered, then coughed again, "What happened?"

"I was about to ask you that." Jenna laughed, holding a wad of tissues against his forehead to stop the bleeding.

Mike had gone off to look at the armor and fallen tapestry. He returned a few moments later with a satisfied look on his face. "It looks like the ropes that held up that big rug just wore out," he grinned. "Gave up the ghost you might say."

"Very funny, Mike," John snapped, coughing again. "This is serious."

"Sorry."

"Here, John. Let me have another look at that cut."

"No, Professor, it’s all right. Jenna."

The girl held her hand a few inches from the wound and concentrated .

"What's happening?" John asked a few moments later.

"It's not workin', John," she answered in a puzzled voice. "It hasn't even stopped bleeding."

She and Mike tried together and still nothing happened.

"I don't understand."

"Never mind, Mike, It's not that bad." He looked around. "Where's Sam?"

"She was . . . "

"Never mind. We have to find her. She could be in trouble and she's not able to call for help." John stood, weaved and nearly passed out.

"Slow down, John." Cawston warned, pushing him back into the chair. "'We'll go find Sam. Jenna, you'd better stay here with him."

She nodded as he and Mike went off.

"I'm all right, Jenna," he protested,

"Yeah, and I'm Bigfoot," she snorted. “Oh crap!”

“What is it?”

"Look over there"

Standing in front of the row of portraits was a milky, white, bell-shaped figure.

Jenna backed away, her dark eyes wide.

"Easy, Jenna." John whispered. "Who are you?" he asked, standing.

The hazy figure shimmered then vanished, as John collapsed. 

“John!”Jenna screamed. Her cry brought Mike and Cawston running.

"What happened?" Cawston demanded, as he and Mike lifted John onto a bench.

"I... we saw her."

"Her?"

"It was one of the girls. I know it was," she insisted, then went on to describe what she'd seen. "She's still here."

"What?"

"Can't you hear her?" she asked, her eyes flashing. "She's crying. She thinks John's dead. She thinks she killed him."

Mike tried to listen telepathically, but he heard nothing. "Try to get her to talk to you, Jenna." 

"She's gone." Jenna whispered. ''I... I can't feel her anymore. Did you find Sam?"

“No, we didn't get time to look very carefully."

"John was right. You've got to find her. If she sees that ghost, she'll be terrified. We'll be okay."

Reluctantly, the men left her with the unconscious telepath.

Cawston climbed the spiral staircase to search the second floor while Mike checked the remainder of the first floor. They met a short time later in the first floor corridor.

"Nothing." Mike said frowning.

"She wouldn't have gone outside?”

"No. She's afraid of lightning. She’s got to be here in the house somewhere.”

"We haven't looked in the cellars yet."

Mike shuddered at the thought of going back into the cold clammy basement. "Okay," he said, opening the heavy door. He shone the torch down the stone steps and grimly began to go down into the cold darkness.

Cawston followed.

They found Sam huddled in a grimy corner, sobbing silently. Mike crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

Sam lifted her head, saw Mike and folded herself into his arms. Mike stroked the carrot colored curls gently. He stood and carried the still crying child up the steep stairs.

//We found her!// Mike sent triumphantly as Cawston closed the door behind them. He stopped suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Jenna didn't answer," he explained. "Something’s wrong."

Mike and the parapsychologist hurried down the corridor.

Jenna stood beside the bench. She looked up as the two men came in. "You found her?"

"Yes, down in the cellars," Mike said,

*Why you down?* Jenna signed slowly.

//She call me,// Sam answered in a strangely echoing telepathic voice.

Jenna and Mike stared at the child in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" Cawston asked.

"She's sending!"

"I thought John said she hadn't learned telepathy."

"She hasn't." Jenna gulped. "Part of the trouble is that she's too young. She's only 10. Breakouts don’t usually happen til you’re at least twelve." She smiled at Sam and put a hand gently onto the child’s round cheek. //Who called you?//

//She called me.//

//Sam, who is ‘she’?//

//Not know. She not give me name,// Sam was sweating now as she strained to speak telepathically. //She same us.//

//Did she teach you mind talk?// Mike asked gently.

Sam tilted her head. //Not know. I get... scared?// she glanced at Jenna, checking the word.

Jenna nodded. //Yes, scared. But why did you get scared?//

//He hurt.//

//You mean John?//

//She try to make him see her and he got hurt. He fall. Blanket fall. I run fast, run away. "Come to under house" she say. I get more scared, but she say "Is safe in under house."//

//What next?//

//I go to under house. Is dark, is cold, I scared. She go away. I cry,// she sent as tears welled in her grey-green eyes.

//It's all right, Sam. It's all right,// Jenna sent, hugging the child as Mike told Cawston what had happened.

John sat up, clutching his head with both hands and groaning. "Mike. What's happened?" he asked dazedly.

"This ghost, whoever she is, has been sending to Sam."

John shook his head to clear it, realized what a mistake he'd made, and groaned again.

"No, Mike, Hannah is no ghost."

"Hannah? How . . . ?"

"She told me. She isn't dead, at least not the way we normally think of death. She's a disembodied spirit, but not a ghost."

"I thought they were one and the same."

"No, Professor, Hannah was a Tomorrow Person."

"Ah. So the same rules wouldn't necessarily apply."

"To a point they would, but if Hannah's consciousness, spirit, whatever you would call it, had left her body temporarily and her body was killed, she might have survived... at least part of her anyway."

"That's incredible!" Cawston breathed. "She told you all this telepathically?"

"Not exactly. For a brief moment Hannah... I suppose ‘possessed me’ would be the best choice of words . She must have read enough of my thoughts to find out about Sam. When she learned they were in a way the same age, she left again. That's why I  
collapsed a few moments ago. After that knock on the head . . . "

“But you’re all right now?”

John rubbed his forehead. “Aside from a rather nasty headache, Professor, yes.” 

Cawston sighed in relief. “Good.”

“I’m still a bit dizzy though,” John admitted. He took a deep breath. “I’m certain Hannah never meant to hurt me or Sam. She was just so excited to finally find someone she could actually communicate with after all this time that she overwhelmed me for a moment.”

"What can we do for this Hannah?" Jenna asked.

"Release her."

"How?"

"That odd nil energy reading I got earlier . . . I don't know why I didn't recognize it before. It’s varlumin, granted it’s not a high concentration or we’d have felt it as soon as we came inside, but it’s enough to trap Hannah’s spirit. That’s why you two couldn’t heal the cut on my head,” John said, gesturing toward the small injury. “My guess is that our special powers will come back once we leave the house, but it’s strong enough to keep Hannah trapped here.”

"So, how do we do it without our special powers?" Mike asked.

"Sam has to allow Hannah to take her over for a few moments so we can take her outside, Once Hannah's outside the varlumin field, she can escape."

“Escape?"' Cawston asked, "You mean die."

John nodded solemnly. "Yes. As she was meant to do four centuries ago."

"She was murdered here."

"Hannah's body died a long time ago. She deserves her release."

"She could teach us so much."

"No, she couldn't. Could you let an animal live in pain when there was no hope of recovery?"

"She's in pain?"

"Not in physical pain, no." He lifted Sam into his lap. //Sam, the girl you met is very sad. She wants to go home. Will you help her?//

“Why Sam?” Jenna asked. “Why not one of us?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” John said quietly. “We’re all too... well, ‘trained’ to accept Hannah’s consciousness. You saw what happened when she tried it with me. Even though I tried to let her in when I realized what was happening, my mind was too strong to allow it - it pushed her away.”

“And Sam, not being fully telepathic, could accept another mind?” Cawston asked.

John nodded. “Temporarily, yes. Once she’s trained, she’ll learn to erect a mental barrier, but for now...”

Sam tugged at his sleeve. //Sam help sad girl,// she sent confidently.

//Good. Don’t be afraid, she won’t hurt you. Just let her come into your mind,// he sent in a soft telepathic voice. He wasn’t sure just how much she understood, but she slowly relaxed until she seemed to go to sleep in his arms.

A shiver passed through Sam's tiny body as Hannah’s consciousness entered her. John stood with the child in his arms and walked slowly toward the main door followed quietly by Jenna, Mike and Professor Cawston.

The little group stood outside in the pouring rain as Sam spoke for the first time in her life. It wasn't Sam speaking, not really, but the three words were clear, a calm polite, "I thank thee."

"You're welcome, Hannah." John said as Sam's body shivered again.

//She go away now.// Sam sent in a telepathic whisper. //She happy?//

//Yes. She's very happy.//

//Good. Sam very sleepy. We go home now?// she sent, leaning her head against John's chest.

//Yes, we’ll go home now,// he sent, giving her a gentle hug.


End file.
